


constant bearing

by trappednightingale



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29575071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trappednightingale/pseuds/trappednightingale
Summary: Star Wars Soulmate Month 2021: Day 19 [When you turn 18 you get a compass that leads you to your soulmate]
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13
Collections: Star Wars Soulmate Month 2021





	constant bearing

Looking back, Din can’t remember when the compass mark appeared on the palm of his hand, nor when he realized what it meant, what it was doing. It was simply that one day, he took off a glove, and there it was, staring back at him as innocuous as anything despite his growing bewilderment. The strangest thing about the compass was the fact that it did not point in any one direction, spinning rapidly and moving over his skin like a hologram. Although it was easy enough to tuck his hand back into his glove, the vague sense of unease only grew as he began to feel the sensation of the motion on his palm, manifesting itself as a constantly-in-motion itch. Finally, it stilled to a degree, merely flicking back and forth in minimal increments, as though too far away from its target to truly settle on a direction.

/Strange/ he thought before hoisting his blaster to resume his training. He had so much work to do.

* * *

Din could remember clearly the day he’d asked the Armorer about it, presented his hand reluctantly while waiting for her judgement.

“You’ve had this for some time.” She finally said, no hint of a question in her voice.

“Roughly four life cycles.” He admitted, keeping his head bowed, free hand resting on his own knee.

“And has it settled on any one direction?” 

“No.” He replied after a moment, feeling the flush of shame climbing up the back of his neck.   
  
“Until it does, you shall continue on your Path, providing for the Enclave.” She instructed. “On the day it finally stills, you may request leave, if you choose that to be your Path.” Something went unspoken, leaving Din feeling unsettled until long after he was off-planet, chasing his next bounty.

She hadn’t said ‘This is the Way’. Somehow, lacking that changed the entire meaning of her words, making him realize that there was a vast difference between the Way and his potentially future Path. Choosing that Path, pursuing what lied at the end of the Compass’ gaze… It would not be The Way, would not be in accordance with their oaths.

It was well over a decade later before Din finally encountered Mandolorians outside of his enclave, people who walked their own Path, who found their own Creed to light the Way. Well over a decade before Din found his own Creed.

* * *

By the time Din thought of his Compass again, he’d been parted from Grogu, parted from his son for nearly an entire life cycle, though he’d barely begun again to count lifecycles as a standard of time. Then he’d gotten a transmission from the Jedi, and almost instinctively, Din started pressing in the coordinates just before Luke rattled them off. It didn’t hit him until he was in hyperspace to check, and he hurriedly ripped his glove off to see that his compass was in fact pointed the same direction as the coordinates he’d plugged in. He paled under his helmet and dropped to sit in the captain’s chair, head in his hands. This… this complicated things. And complications were the last thing Grogu needed, in his training or his rearing. No, he wouldn’t say anything, wouldn’t rock the boat. He would just wait, see if the Jedi said anything about it. There was no way that could possibly fail.

* * *

It failed. For almost two lifecycles, he and Luke have been dancing around each other, in subtle gestures or soft touches, never anything other than innocent. It was driving Din mad, making him question why the other never brought it up, what was possibly inhibiting him from speaking their truth. It came up entirely by accident, which is roughly what Din expected at this point.

They’re sparring, Darksaber to Saber, and well matched for their years of dueling each other. There is a rhythm, a push and pull, almost a dance as they whirl around each other, parrying and relaying blow after blow. At some point, Luke laughs, and the sound tears through Din like a blaster bolt, causing him to miss a step, just barely grazing Luke’s hand as it passes the other. Din is helpless but to watch in horror as his unruly blade severs one of Luke’s fingers. 

“Luke!” Din says, sheathing his blade and falling to his knees in front of the other, cradling his hand between his own. “Are you alright?”

Luke’s laughter seems to amplify at this, and Din immediately raises concerns of shock to the top of his mental list. Din is worriedly peeling at Luke’s glove, when Luke’s bare left hand comes in contact with the side of his helmet, stilling him. Din looks up at Luke, who is smiling fondly down at him. 

“Din, Din I’m fine. Look, see?” He holds out his hand, wriggling the fingers and staring pointedly at where his pinky had been. Instead of cauterized flesh, Din can see wires short circuiting and realization dawns on Din.

“It’s a prosthetic.” 

“Yeah. Long story, I’ll tell you about it later.” Luke smiles softly down at him, fingers still brushing over the beskar of his helmet. Din has a moment to look down at Luke’s hand, to see his right hand shooting out sparks, to realize exactly why Luke hasn’t brought it up. His heart falls, but only for a moment.

“You… you had a Compass, didn’t you?” Din asks quietly, bringing his right hand to wrap around Luke’s metal one. Luke looks surprised by this question, then frowns, nodding. 

“Luke…” Din wants to laugh at himself, he’s been so stupid, so completely obtuse. He drops Luke’s hand, brings his own to his lap where he fiddles with his gloves for a moment. “Close your eyes. Do your magic thing.”

“That’s not how the Force works.” Luke retorts, but his eyes close nonetheless. 

Hesitantly, Din reaches out, takes Luke’s right hand in his own, flipping them both palm-up. What he sees nearly makes his heart stop, and he squeezes Luke’s hand, knowing the other could feel it. Luke doesn’t open his eyes, though, just smiles, fingers spreading in Din’s grasp. Finally, blue eyes meet cool beskar, and Din frowns, thinks he probably could have taken off his helmet for this bit. But Luke doesn’t look disappointed, just accepting and full of adoration and lo--

Oh.

Luke looks down at their joined hands, his smile bright enough to shame any sun, staring down in wonder at the compass on Din’s palm, pointed directly at Luke. 

“...I knew it.” Luke was saying, voice barely above a breath. “I knew it, I knew it had to be real.” His eyes shine as he looks up into Din’s visor. “You’ve felt it too, right?”

Din doesn’t have to ask, understands exactly what Luke’s talking about. For all they’ve been near each other, Din never had his armor off, and so rarely paid his compass any mind when he wasn’t wearing his gloves. It hadn’t occurred to him, because it didn’t matter. He knew, that every step he’d taken had led him here, kneeling at the feet of the man who loved him, even without that steady physical mark to sustain hope.    
  


Din looked up at Luke, smiling broadly under his helmet, reaching up to clasp the back of his neck, bringing him in to gently bump the forehead of his helmet against Luke’s. Luke’s gentle intake of breath was all the confirmation Din needed to know that his intentions were clear. 

* * *

It doesn’t take long for them to find their happy ever after, Din, taking on missions to reunite the scattered members of his enclave, but never too long gone from Luke’s ever-growing school. And Din finds his new creed, creates his own definition of leadership birthed by the Darksaber. Luke houses children kidnapped by the blossoming First Order, rescued by Mandalorians and bounty hunters. Din maintains his Creed, stays true to the Way, only ever taking off his helmet when with his clan. Grogu. Luke.

Din huffs out a laugh as he looks down at his gloved palm, not needing to remove the fabric to know that the Compass is, as it ever was, guiding his way home.


End file.
